


What if God was One of Us?

by kelly42fox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 11, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly42fox/pseuds/kelly42fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of their last showdown with Amara, an unexpected guest appears before the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if God was One of Us?

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I want season 11 to end for the Winchesters... Want. But will never happen...

Dean sat at an old, sticky bar nursing three fingers of whiskey. It was his second round, and he’d promised Sam he’d go easy. They were headed into a big fight in the morning, potentially Earth shattering, and they had to be at their best.

Calm, too calm, and thinking back on the last few years, the path that led them to their current point, had the din of the bar drifting into the background of Dean’s consciousness. Focusing solely on his thoughts led him to miss the bar door swinging open, a scruffy little figure staggering in and taking the stool directly to his left.

“You’re getting old, Dean,” the man squeaked, and it was only then that Dean was roused from his thoughts, surprised and shocked by a familiar voice that he hadn’t heard in years.

Dean’s eyes flew to the man sitting next to him. He was faced with mousy brown hair that was flecked with grey, weeks old beard, and tired blue eyes. He hadn’t changed at all.

“Chuck?!” Dean blurted out too loudly, catching the attention of several other bar patrons. Dean grit his teeth and reeled in his surprise. It quickly turned to irritation. “What the hell are you doing here, man?! Where have you been? Just up and disappeared after Stull.”

“I was no longer needed. I just…” Chuck considered his words carefully. “I… I had to get away.”

“No longer needed…?” Dean repeated incredulously. “No longer needed?! You’re a prophet, damn it! We could have used your help! War in heaven…”

“Keep it down, Dean,” Chuck interrupted Dean’s bluster, glancing around the bar, noting that their conversation had attracted some attention.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but not here… Take me to Sam.”

Dean grumbled and downed the rest of his drink as he stood from the stool. Tossing a wad of cash on the bar, he strode away, expecting Chuck to follow.

The walk back to the motel was quiet except for the crunch of gravel under their feet. Dean took the time to process Chuck’s presence, his head spinning at the implications. More questions began to surface. They boiled in his brain, threatening to bubble over.

Chuck eyed Dean warily. He was clearly expecting a tirade when they reached the motel, but it was a testament to Dean’s growth that he could hold it in, although Dean didn’t see it that way. His focus was always on the turmoil, not the restraint.

To alleviate some of the tension, Chuck let out a bit of a chuckle when they reached the parking lot. Parked before them was the Impala, clean and well cared for. He placed a hand on Baby’s trunk and ran it up her side as he walked by. “I’m so glad you kept her up, Dean, through everything. She’s still a beautiful machine.”

Dean smirked. “She is.”

Fumbling with the keys, Dean pushed his way into the motel room. The smell of bleach and old carpet assaulted their senses.

Dean flipped on the light and tossed the keys onto the old floral comforter of the nearest bed. Sam was stretched out on the other, failing to sleep. “Up and at ‘em, Sammy. We got company.”

Sam’s eyes flew open and instantly focused on Chuck, who was still awkwardly standing in front of the closed door. “Hey, Sam,” he greeted with a lazy wave of his hand.

A beat later, Sam leapt out of bed, training the gun he kept under his pillow at Chuck’s head. He cocked it.

“Woah. Woah,” Chuck stuttered, holding up his hands in surrender.

Dean had leaned down and grabbed a duffle off the floor. He dropped it on the bed and clapped Sam on the shoulder in silent appreciation of his brother’s actions. He proceeded to rummage through the duffle, fishing out supplies.

“Chuck, it’s been a long time. What are you doing here? We assumed you were dead, there being a new prophet called and all.”

“I… Sam, please put the gun away. You know they make me nervous,” Chuck stammered.

“You gotta pass the tests like everyone else, you should know that,” Dean explained, shaking a flask of holy water at him.

Silver, holy water, and a drop of holy oil later, the three men sat down on the two beds.

“Sorry about that,” Sam started. “You know how it is.”

“You still have the visions?” Dean asked, getting directly to the point. “You know what’s been happening?”

“In a way,” Chuck smirked with little humor. “Not the way you remember them, but I sure know what’s going on. It’s the reason I’m here.”

“So you just went on a six year vacation?” Dean accused, voice sharp.

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “Let him explain. We’ll ask questions afterward. Ok?”

Dean grumbled an assent.

“Go on, Chuck. Please.” Even Sam’s voice carried a hint of accusation.

“I… No… You Winchesters have been one of the best and the worst things to happen to this creation. Your latest actions have put everyone in a precarious situation, but in the end, I’m the one to blame. Every being was supposed to be free to live out their existence on this Earth without divine interference, but that is not what has transpired. Of course it would be you two to stumble into my old mess…” Chuck’s voice trailed off.

As Chuck spoke the expressions on the brothers’ faces changed drastically. Sam’s subtly morphed from curiosity, to confusion, to horror, to understanding, to horror again. Dean’s more dynamic emoting was so severe it was almost comical: confusion, to deeper confusion, to sheer concern.

“Chuck…” Sam started, paused, and then he found the courage to voice the idea in his head. “You’re here to go with us tomorrow.”

Chuck nodded. “Instead of you.”

“To deal with your sister…?” Sam’s statement turned into a question.

Dean shot up, as if Sam’s question confirmed his suspicions. “Oh. Hell. No.”

“Dean, please…” Chuck barely got the statement out before Dean’s fist met his face.

“Dean!” Sam shouted and darted forward to drag his brother away from Chuck.

“You SON OF A BITCH!!!!” Dean screamed, struggling against Sam’s grip. “You FUCKING BASTARD!!!! THIS IS ALL ON YOU!!! All of it! YOU let all of this happen! Do you know how many have suffered?!” 

The yelling subsided, and Dean went limp in Sam’s arms, tears streaming down his face. He shrugged off his brother and dropped onto the bed again, burying his face in his hands. “You unbelievable fucking asshole,” Dean’s muffled voice cracked. “You’ve been here this whole time.”

Chuck didn’t deny it. He pinched his bloody nose to staunch the flow, and the gushing stopped. The redness and swelling disappeared. He let the room stay quiet for a number of minutes. He let Dean’s silent sobbing subside and Sam’s nausea flat line.

“I need a drink,” Dean croaked out a whisper, finally removing his face from his hands. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face.

“I concur,” Sam grumbled.

“I can’t begin to adequately explain my choices to you… Further than I already have,” Chuck said solemnly. “But I can offer you this… This time, I’ll deal with saving the world. I’ll deal with Lucifer and Amara. This, I promise. Amara is my sister. It’s only right.”

Dean looked up at Chuck, deep sincerity in his eyes. “Cas… What about Cas? I want him back, Chuck. Sam and I want him back.”

Chuck smiled. “I know you do, and it won’t do to separate my ‘Team Free Will’.” His look turned knowing, and he firmly directed his attention at Dean. “You will have Castiel back.”

Dean sat back, sighed, and turned an eye to his brother. “We might need to make that retirement reservation yet.”

Sam and Chuck both chuckled.

“Don’t you dare disappear on us this time,” Dean pointed at Chuck. “I have some words for you.”

“More?” Chuck swallowed.

Sam laughed. Only Dean Winchester would punch God in the face and then scold him like a misbehaving teen.

“If you feel it’s necessary,” Chuck sighed.

“It sure as hell is necessary.”


End file.
